Hourglass
by theangelgabrielle
Summary: A senator, just figuring out the rules. A co-ed, just trying to have fun. Collide. Dan&Blair.
1. The Beginning

Summary: "I'm not your Monica frigging Lewinsky!" Dan/Blair.

Disclaimer: It's disclaimed.

--

THE BEGINNING

--

THERE WAS SOMETHING SO GLAMOROUS about Washington. Glamour wasn't an alien concept to a woman like Blair Waldorf, who'd been born with a silver, diamond-encrusted spoon in her mouth. It was, however, a pleasant and welcome change from the preppie environment of Yale University. Currently, Spring Break was in full swing and Blair, along with a gaggle of close friends, had skipped the usual Ivy League haunt of Palm Springs for a more educational vacation.

Their hotel room was big enough to fit a small army. Isabel Coates and Kati Farkas had already collapsed on the king-sized bed. The four girls, Blair, Isabel, Kati and Serena van der Woodsen, had purchased two rooms, each with two beds. Their rooms were connected via an unlocked door and it was probable that the girls would be moving from room to room all night. Serena and Blair were rooming together, simply because they shared a room back at Yale. Kati and Isabel lived in the same dorms, but in separate rooms. Blair had known Kati and Isabel since they were in Dior diapers. Serena was a new addition to their clique who they met at Yale.

"Yum." Serena popped the free mint chocolate into her mouth. "I could get used to this," she added, her mouth oozing green mint and lush chocolate.

Blair rolled her doe eyes at her friend. Currently, the foursome were hanging out in Kat and Iz's room. They did everything together. They were _this close. _Even if Blair get occasionally - okay, more than occasionally - annoyed with Serena's antics, they were friends til the end.

Kati and Isabel occupied themselves by fiddling with the plasma screen TV. It was mounted on the wall, alongside several impeccable reproductions of contemporary art. The two girls were busy watching a rerun of yesterday's medical drama, which they missed because they were on a plane. Even though Blair wad rather fond of private jets, Serena excitedly explained that they couldn't have "a real tourist adventure," if they didn't fly commercial. Both girls compromised and went for first class.

Noticing the sudden silence in a room full of second-year college girls, Serena crossed her legs, Indian-style and sat up ruler-straight. She cleared her throat, covering her faux-cough with a Jergens moisturized hand.

"What?" Blair barked, shooting eye-daggers at her friend.

"Sheesh." Serena's blond eyebrows bowed. "Did someone forget her happy pill this morning?" she sang in a teasing voice.

Again, Blair's wide brown eyes rolled around in their sockets. "No." She crossed her slim, pale arms over her chest. "Is it so abnormal for someone not to be constantly as chipper as a chipmunk?"

Kati and Isabel snickered in the background. No one was quite sure whether it was because of Blair's quip or the lame pick-up line used on the TV show the girls were engrossed in.

Like a fish out of water, Serena's Nars in Afghan Red-coated lips popped open and closed multiple times. Finally, she settled on pursing them into her signature pout and turning away from her best friend. In a huff, she stormed over to the bed closest to the TV and plopped down beside an enthralled Kat and Iz. They welcomed her with mumbles of "Hi," and "Shush."

Blair turned her back on the trio of girls, sprawled out on the huge bed. The preternaturally chilled van der Woodsen had already wrapped herself in the spare cream-coloured cashmere throw blanket. Kati and Iz were quietly whining, over the hum of the MRI scan displayed on screen, that they were cold, too. Serena, stubborn as she was, chose to ignore their pathetic pleas and pulled the soft blanket closer to her skin.

The brunette beauty used one clear-polished finger to toy with the thick strap of her vintage Hermes over-the-shoulder satchel. She'd packed a light Jodi Picoult paperback to read on the plane, one of her slimmer Pre-Med textbooks, a half-empty package of Stride gum in Sweetberry, and, of course, more than enough makeup. Her purse was a thirteen-year-old girl's dream come true.

"Um," Blair announced. Slowly, two faces turned towards her. Kati remained facing the television, where a particularly sexy male doctor was removing his scrub top. "Kat?"

Kati, reluctantly, drew herself away from her favourite "actor" of all time. She locked eyes with Blair, who, in turn, nodded politely.

"I'm going to go check out the rest of the hotel." Her nose scrunched up in anticipation. "See if it's deserving of all those four-star reviews on Expedia. Anyone want to come with?"

All three girls shook their heads and returned to the program. Blair swooped her side-bangs away from her Audrey Hepburnesque face with a sigh. At one time, these girls would've_ killed _to be in the presence of Blair Waldorf. Now, well... Just look at their reactions! It was all her father's fault. After he ran away to a chic French _chateau_, with a brain-dead male model named _Romaaaaan_, leaving his upscale fashion line to clueless Eleanor, no one wanted anything to do with the Waldorf family. Their name was scorned. A name to be laughed upon at brunch. Nothing more.

"Fine," she replied, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice. Blair hitched her Hermes purse further up her shoulder. She was dressed elegantly in a printed lipstick-red wrap dress underneath a chunky charcoal grey wraparound sweater. It was still fairly chilly in Washington, so she'd dressed warmly. Her signature headband - a silk red one this time - adorned her loose waves. She'd taken off her white sunglasses and afixed them to the dangerously low neckline of her dress. "I'll be going then."

Taking special care to pluck her key card off the mahogany Chippendale table, the affronted brunette rushed out of the dreaded hotel room as fast as her slingbacks would carry her. Imagine! This was the vacation she'd been waiting _months _for! It was all ruined because of a little spat with Serena. Serena, who was only invited along because of happenstance that she shared Blair's dorm!

From a young age, manners, grace, and elegance had been drilled into Blair's head. For a moment, she shoved those teachings as far back in her mind as they could go and slammed the door. She called, "Oops!" just loud enough for Serena, Kati, and Isabel to here. Not like it was an accident or anything, but she had to keep up appearances.

_Bitch-whores. _

_-- _

"YOU HAVE A PRESS CONFERENCE scheduled for nine a.m. tomorrow morning," Penelope, Dan Humphrey's Old Hollywood-beautiful assistant, stated. Her dark eyes were still downcast, speed-reading through her boss' time table for the next day. It was almost seven-thirty in the evening and Dan was getting antsy to go home to his girlfriend.

"That's fine," he agreed, adding a curt nod. Penelope fluttered her mascara'd eyelashes at him, before bashfully looking away. Dan was puzzled by the way she'd been acting as of late. Yes, she was pretty - gorgeous even. He was dating someone, though. Steady, for two years. That was pretty serious. He knew his girlfriend, Vanessa, was eagerly awaiting the day he'd pop the question - but he was in no way going to rush himself just because most East Coast politicians were married with 2.5 kids.

Penelope Setton was her name. Twenty-three. Brunette, tanned skin, all-around gorgeous. Not only did she have the 'beauty,' but she had the 'brain,' too. Penelope, called Pen by her friends, finished high school at fifteen and college at nineteen. Her IQ hovered somewhere above 145.

Vanessa, of course, was who Dan's heart really belonged too. They'd grown up in Brooklyn. Both of them attended single-sex private schools that nearly drove them insane. Ness went to Constance-Billard School and Dan was a less-than-proud graduate of St. Jude's Academy. For as long as either Brooklynite could recall, they'd been best friends. Closer than close. Of course, Ness' feelings were always a little less platonic than Dan's were. One day, sometime after he graduated Evergreen and started going to Columbia as an undergraduate, he realized that he was an idiot. The hottest girl in downtown New York _like-liked _him and he'd been too much in love with a dream to do anything.

That dream girl? We'll get to that later.

"Okay." Penelope flipped to the next page on her clipboard. Her full eyebrows raised at whatever text she'd just skimmed. Curious, Dan cleared his throat gently. It served its purpose, bringing the skirt suit-clad assistant back to planet Earth. "Oh, yes, sorry Senator Humphrey."

He clucked his tongue. "No problem. Now what was it you were about to say?"

"Oh." She shoved a dark-coloured curl out of her line of sight. Her dark, haunting eyes bore deep into Dan's own. He shuddered. Girl was creepy. "Nothing much. Just...besides that press conference, your day is pretty much...free."

The professional pair was walking down the hallways, tiled in cool aqua and ivory marble, slowly. Dan picked up the pace. Vanessa really was expecting him home soon... The twenty-eight-year-old senator of New York was quite the heartthrob around Washington. Not only did he have a steady girlfriend who he refused to cheat on, but he was constantly coolly dismissing the many dime-a-dozen twentysomethings who threw themselves at him. He found it disgusting. He was a professional. He wasn't young like most of his ardent fan club members. What did he have going for him, anyways?

_Penelope could name a few things..._

_--_

_That's right. I'm back. The drama of yesteryear's teenagers is nothing compared to the sex and scandals goin' on in our nation's capital. If you're still stuck shopping with Mommy at **Bendel's **or perhaps studying Law at one of the **Holy Trinity **schools (**Yale, Harvard, Princeton,** anyone?), have no fear. Gossip Girl is here to spill the well-preserved, gourmet beans. _

_You know you love me. _

_xoxo, _

_Gossip Girl. _


	2. The Meeting

_Someone's stirring the **VitaminWater**... The lovable and oh-so-delish **D** might not be the good guy we all thought he was. So what if he's sent every **Chanel** quilted purse-carrying, **Tory Burch **flat-wearing, **Bergdorf**-highlighted blonde in the country packing? Could he share a sexy little secret with noted siren assistant, **P**? What's happening with loyal GF, **V**? You know what they say: While the cat's away, the mice will play. One question: Whose the cat and whose the mouse? _

_You know you love me. _

_XOXO, _

_Gossip Girl. _

_-- _

THE MEETING

--

BLAIR, LOOKING STYLISH AND CHIC as per usual, drew two manicured fingers to her Russian Red lipstick'd lips. A loud whistle followed. Strangely enough, a dozen yellow cabs hadn't stopped at her feet. What the eff? She was beginning to feel more frustrated than she had with her friends. Why wasn't this trip turning out the way she'd planned?

A sudden gust of wind blew the above-the-knee hem of her slinky wrap dress around, exposing more toned, pale leg than decency approved of. Her mother, the staunch Eleanor, would've gasped if she saw her daughter at that moment. Mentally, Blair snickered. Too bad her Mommy wasn't here to dress her anymore. A few catcalls and mutters of, "Wow," were directed at her long legs. Teasingly, Blair grinned. She didn't even care if the whistles were coming for street bums and hobos. For once, since she began Yale, the attention was all on her.

"Do you need some help, Miss?" came a low voice. Male, obviously.

"With what?" Blair answered, her tone oozing sarcasm. "Taking off my dress? I'm quite capable of doing that on my own, thank you."

"Actually," the man drew out the word, giving it about fifty more syllables than necessary. "I was talking about your trouble hailing a cab."

Under the circumstances, any other girl would have blushed bashfully, or fluttering her eyelashes coyly. Too bad she wasn't "any other girl." She was Blair Waldorf, one of a kind. A unique breed. Blair, instead, turned to face the voice's owner. She wasn't surprised. He was taller than her, which wasn't much of an accomplishment as she stood at five-foot-five, maybe five-ten? The man had close-cropped dark hair, was clean-shaven, and had soul-baring brown eyes. In short, he was ten kinds of hot.

And Blair knew how to act around hot guys. _Coy. _So, she flipped her hair off her neck. It was warming up outside. After the windy spell, it seemed like the sun was tired of playing hard-to-get. Instead of hints of the yellow orb peeping through the fluffy clouds, the sun had come out to play. Blair slid her sunglasses off from where they were hooked around her top. She placed them carefully on the bridge of her nose, sliding them up to conceal her big brown eyes and Anastasia-arched brows.

"So," the man began. A small smile played on Blair's painted red lips. Just when she thought nothing was going her way, too. "Are you from around here?" Although she didn't notice, the man winced at his own phrase. It sounded like a cheesy pick-up line from a Disney made-for-TV movie.

"No." Deciding to keep herself an enigma, Blair simply tucked a curl - sprayed with Bumble and Bumble Curl Conscious Holding Foam before she'd trotted out of the hotel room - behind her ear. She couldn't keep from smiling. While S was tucked in, giggling with Kat and Iz over a surgical intern's crazy antics, Blair was chatting up the city's hottest guys! Now who's the top dog, van der Woodsen?

"I'm not either." Upon seeing Blair's dark eyebrow raise above the protection of her designer sunglasses, he added, "Originally."

In his most likely custom-fitted Armani suit, in a tasteful shade of navy, the man ran his mouth a little more. "I'm Dan. Well, _Daniel, _but no one calls me that. Except my sister sometimes..."

After that, she tuned him out. God, guys could be annoying as Serena sometimes! Her fingers flitted up to her hair. From her Hermes tote, she came up with an elaborate vintage butterfly clip. She twisted her hair into a chignon and clipped it with the metal butterfly. _There. _

"I'm talking too much, aren't I?" the man said, flushing a light shade of rose. "Sorry. I - I'm not usually like this. It's just...I'm not very good with women."

Wryly, Blair smiled. "I bet you say that to all the girls to get them in bed."

He clammed up, switching his seemingly heavy laptop bag from one broad shoulder to the next. He ran a hand across his face, massaging the bridge of his nose and smoothing over his eyebrows. "Wow. That was...forward of you. And completely untrue, let the record show."

"For the record," Blair said smoothly, "It's working."

Dan's fingers pulled at the collar of his pristine white button-down. When did it get so hot out? Momentarily, his eyes stopped searching hers and paused to sweep over those legs. Those troublesome, endlessly long legs. They would be the end of him. Truly.

"Wait." The enigmatic brunette raised her palms, displaying a couple rings, most noticeably a ruby one and a plain silver embossed band. "You said your name was Daniel. As in Daniel Humphrey! Senator of New York!"

Talk about a mood killer. Suddenly, the fine hairs on his neck were standing at attention, like soldiers. He attempted a smile. It was a shaky, closed-mouth one, but better than nothing.

"That doesn't mean I wouldn't be opposed to ride in your limo." She flashed him something like a grin. Except - more evil. "You have one, I presume?"

--

PENELOPE, movie star teeth gritted, held out her iPhone at arm's length and snapped away. _Click. _Dan reaches out to help that whore get in his always on-call limo. _Click. _The brunette tosses a sparkly-eyed look at him, hesitantly accepting his hand. _Click. _The swish of her printed dress, the last of her to enter the luxury vehicle_. Click_. The door closes.

That should be her. It really should. She should be dressed to the nines, instead of her favourite pair of sweats. Her hair should be elegantly pinned up instead of stuffed into a ponytail and spilling all over her shoulders. In every way, she should be that girl. But she's not. She's the girl who has to snap photos and send them to gossip bloggers. What has her life come to?

In college, she could get any man she wanted. No eyelash batting or short skirts were even nessecary. They just stumbled and tripped right over to her, widening there eyes. Begging if need be. Now, even if she did get down on the city pavement and plead, she wasn't sure he'd say yes. In fact, she was almost positive he'd say no. What was there left to do? Peel off her blouse right in front of him during a midday meeting?

_Hmm._ That might just work.

--

IT WAS AN AWKWARD SCENE. Both of them were far too formal. It was like a ride to the Junior Prom or something. Her legs - _Lord, those legs - _were exposed by that dress and crossed demurely at her slim ankles. His hands were clasped his lap - only they were drawn together so tightly his knuckles were vampire white. They both chose to ignore this though. It was just getting from Point A to Point B...right?

Under her thick lashes, she met his unsteady gaze.

_Wrong. _

The subtle way she casually let her cream-coloured slingback fall off her perfect size-six foot made him wondered if it was just his overactive imaginative at work. Now, Dan wasn't one to have a foot fetish - but, there was just something about her movement. How everything she did seemed breezy, spur-of-the-moment.

From the corner of his eye, he watched her long toes - polished with Dior Vernis in Mystic Violine - stretch out and apply pressure to a black button. It was just enough of a stretch for her skirt to hitch up the same way it had earlier- He glanced away. The tell-tale mechanic hum told him she'd raised the tinted window enclosing them, away from his driver's prying eyes.

Blair seemed to sense this - though, at the time, he didn't know she was a Blair. She'd could've been a Minnesota born n' raised Susan Montgomery. A Cali girl - like Serena - named Kaylee Gwynn. A hippie kid who despised her parents ways, from Maine, perhaps, named Moonbeam - with a twin brother named Sunray. She could've been anyone that night. And she was. All his dreams -

Wait. Dream.

"Are you Audrey Waldorf's younger sister?"

The glare he received from the mysterious brunette was worse than the one he'd gotten from the Republican nominee for the Senate seat he currently held. Her eyes were dark. She turned away, leaving her several hundred dollar pump on the floor of the recently cleaned limo. She didn't seem to care - about anything, really. Instead of answering, she slid carefully across the butter-soft limo seat - closer, closer, and closer to Dan until her bare legs were leaning against his own.

She toyed playfully with the hem of her wrap dress, bunching it up with her index finger. "You know," she began, "I don't do this a lot. I have a boyfriend, Nate. He would kill you if he found out."

Dan gulped, even though he knew he had a troupe of bodyguards who would gladly fling themselves in the trajectory of any oncoming bullets if need be.

"Don't worry." She placed her open palm on his knee, squeezing it. "We won't let him find out, will we, Senator?"

That was when her lips parted and she kissed him so deeply, with such feeling. He was reminded of the first time he kissed Vanessa, at a frat party with a red plastic cup in his hand, but pushed the idle thought away. For only a second, he pulled away, and called to the hat-wearing driver, "The nearest hotel, please."


	3. The Hotel Osgood

THE HOTEL OSGOOD

--

DAN'S FINGERS WERE ITCHING to make contact with skin - _her _skin, to be specific. The soft, oh-so-touchable, creamy skin of his unnamed angel. She was smirking in her special way and her hair was slowly but surely falling out of that butterfly clip. When he was caught staring, she tucked a sculpted dark curl behind her ear, diamond stud on show, and smiled, teeth hidden behind pursed lips.

It was almost like a scene from an old, black-and-white film. One of the better, lower-budget Bond movies, perhaps? Dan straightened his navy tie with shaking fingers. _Breathe deeply. _Where was that calm, smooth-talking politician the public assumed Dan to be? The second he stepped through the heavy glass revolving doors, a thick pair of tinted sunglasses adorned Dan's boyishly handsome face. They rivaled Blair's - his mystery woman's - in size. Large, round, and with a subtle gold tint to them, they belonged on an episode of _CSI: Miami _rather than the bizarre crossover between _West Wing _and _The Office _that was Dan's life.

Suddenly propelled to move forward, Dan took strode forward. He tried to imagine he was a character in a novel - like the one he always imagined writing but never got around to doing. He walked up to the long mahogany desk, with several beaming, long-haired females milling about behind, and drummed his long fingers against the hard wood. Seeing his own hands, he became aware of the fact that he should clip his nails soon. It was kind of poetic, really. High School Dan would've dug through his corduroy pockets for a Moleskin notebook, jotting something down about _sharp nails bite through her flesh _or _endlessly long; cannot be - _

"Hello, sir. Welcome to The Hotel Osgood." One of the woman he'd seen earlier smiled graciously up at him. She was quite short - shorter than his mystery girl. Currently, the brunette beauty was smiling becomingly and running her fingers up and down his lower back. It was torturous.

"Hi." Almost nervously, Dan leaned forward on the desk. The sleeves of his suit - Armani, hand-picked by his "image consultant" - rode up slightly, exposing pale skin that just _screeched _for an impromptu trip to Cabo. "Are there any rooms available?"

Immediately, the employee's smile drifted into an apologetic grimace. "I'm sorry, but we're all full at the moment. Would you like to-"

"Excuse me." The Waldorf girl, Audrey's sister, stepped up to bat. Her eyes were aglow with something dangerous, her jaw set in determination. "I'd like to check into the Waldorf personal suite."

Wow. She had her own suite here? He'd been trying to be suave and Bond-sy. The Osgood was well-known in Washington - and not for being a cheap place to stay on the dime.

"I'll need to see some-"

"Photo ID?" Blair grinned. From her over-the-shoulder bag, she casually slid her driver's licence to the woman. Along with a crisply folded fifty. Dan took a moment to learn all he could about this mystery girl. Blair Cornelia Waldorf, was her name. It was a New Yorker's license. Her home address was in the 10021 area code. She was - _oh, God. _Nineteen years of age. Only nine years younger than him. That wasn't...too bad, was it?

The woman's hooded green eyes lit up. "Welcome to the Osgood, Ms. Waldorf." She paused, looking at Blair like she was the Queen of England. "Enjoy your stay."

"Thanks," she replied politely. Standing on her tip-toes, she whispered something into Dan's ear that made him stand absolutely still: "I'm sure I will."

--

_See that photo up there? I'm assuming you know that's my main man **D**, the only one who can make "off-shore drilling" and "health care" sound downright sexy. But who's that flirtatious brunette? Any scoop, lovely readers? I've never seen a man look so good in custom-tailored **Armani, **have you? 'Course you haven't. Unless you've seen him blushing bashfully, with a woman on his arm, like I have. They make a gorgeeouuuuss couple. If only said girl's name started with the letter **V**... _

_You know you love me. _

_XOXO, _

_Gossip Girl. _

_-- _

IT SEEMED THAT A LOT OF HANKY-PANKY was going on that day. And not just where Dan and Blair were concerned. When Dan arrived at the small but lavish two-storey he shared with Vanessa, tired from much more than just work, he found himself looking at Vanessa's scantily-clad self sitting on someone's lap.

To be more exact, she was sitting on the lap of the senator of Arizona. He was old. Really, _really _old.

Vanessa wasn't wearing a pale pink set of lace underwear like his mystery Waldorf had been. Rather, she was in a black ribbed tank top and boyshort-style panties that looked more K-Mart than Stella McCartney. Vanessa's dark curly hair stuck to the back of her neck. Dan only got to see the back-view of her from where he was standing, at the threshold of the house.

"Oh." Vanessa's voice cracked slightly on the word, but she didn't begin to apologize profusely or try to cover her senator "friend," with one of the _Home is Where the Heart Is(n't) _pillows scattered about the den. "You're home," she intoned flatly. Her long, tanned, and curvy legs extended to their full length and pushed her off the loveseat. She half-heartedly threw a plaid blanket at the Arizonian. He seemed nervous, bashful even.

"That I am..." Dan's voice trailed off. He rubbed the back of his neck. _This_ was an unexpected occurrence. His relationship with Vanessa was strained at best. Prior to his encounter with Blair, he had been nothing but faithful, even in thoughts. He was no idiot. He knew that if his lips had happened to come crashing down on Penelope's when they were speed-walking down some sacred hallway, she wouldn't hesitate to match him in passion and force.

And, yet, he'd silently said no to the pleading, begging, hoping, wishing look in her dark eyes. As for Blair's? He hadn't been able to refuse her quite so easily.

"Well," sighed the senator, raising his greying eyebrows, "this is a less than ideal situation."

"Less than ideal," Dan repeated, his voice a wry deadpan. He really shouldn't be joking like this. What else was there to do, though, really? Scream and call the only girl he'd ever been with - _well, yesterday she'd been the only girl - _a whore? It seemed hypocritical, judging by the extracurricular activities he'd just engaged in with a sultry brunette.

By now, Vanessa's tanned shoulders have been concealed by an old Columbia sweater of Dan's. It's ill-fitting and even though the fabric is thick, Dan swore he could see her shivering. Her bare feet tapped a rhythm only she understood on the hardwood floor of the house. "Dan," she said, because there was nothing else to say.

He nodded, avoiding eye contact with her because - _Lord only knows - _a man can lost so very easily in her true-blue eyes. "I think... Ness, we- I..."

She swiped away a dark curl. "I know."

"You do?" Vanessa had always understood him. From preschool to college, words were unnecessary and only used in the presence of others. When they were alone, their eyes and fingers and, _yes, _occasionally lips did all the talking.

"We're done," she confirmed. "Now get out of this house."

--

"HIYA, BLAIRKINS!" Audrey Waldorf, twenty-three, trilled into her baby sister's voice mail. "I'm at the Yale campus," she said, strolling past a coffee cart. An "_Oooh_," escaped her mouth when she sighted her _numero uno _addiction: white chocolate mocha lattes. "Where are you, girlie? I just checked your dorm, it's like empty. In fact, the whole place is pretty much empty... Wait! It's Spring Break, isn't it? Ugh. No fair. You're probably _'chillin' in Cabo' _while I'm stuck at the hospital, interning, and planning my wedding ALONE, without the help of my-" _Beep. _

Audrey pulled her BlackBerry away from her ear, squinting at the screen. Sighing, she turned it off and stuffed it back in her Chanel chain-strap purse. _Where oh where can my sis-ter be?_


End file.
